


NFWMB

by imaginationtherapy



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Protective David Rossi, Spencer Reid Whump, because its a badass song, i took advantage of that, we all forget that hotch was on swat, yes this is titled after hozier's song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:21:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29545071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginationtherapy/pseuds/imaginationtherapy
Summary: One minute, they're searching the outbuildings and the house of Jeremy Brenner, the latest sadist the BAU is tracking. The next minute, Spencer Reid is being held hostage, a gun jammed under his vest and blood dripping down his face.This is what happens next.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid & David Rossi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 170





	NFWMB

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyy look at me, not updating any of my WIPS and starting something else instead.  
> Heyyyyyyyy look at me! Finishing a little one-shot in less than 1500 words. No really, this is an accomplishment. I challenged myself to write something short and angsty and this resulted. I hope you enjoy it!

“Get on your knees. Hands on your head!” Hotch can hear Jeremy Brenner sneering at Rossi over the comms. He knows he has them beaten. “If you even look at your weapons, I’ll put a bullet in his gut.” The man jams his pistol further into his hostage’s side.

_ Hostage. _ God, the word makes Hotch want to throw up, scream, launch himself at Brenner --  _ anything _ other than stand here  _ listening _ . But he has no choice. Neither does Rossi. There is no other option, not unless Hotch is willing to give into his greatest fear, not unless he is willing to watch Spencer Reid bleed out on the floor in front of him.

Bullet proof vests don’t work when the unsub has his gun shoved into their weak spots.

Rossi raises his hands and sinks to the floor. “Alright, alright. I’m going.” There’s a pause, and then a soft “You okay, kid?”

The only response is a thump and a pained yelp.

Hotch swears. That’s Reid, through his own comm. 

Hotch can just barely see through the window that Reid staggers forward before being jerked back roughly. He has no way of knowing what just happened. The only thing he knows for certain is that Brenner hurt Spencer,  _ his _ Spencer.

He swallows down bile.

God, he hates this.

The comms crackle, and Hotch leans forward, as if being that much closer to the damned house will help him hear.

“You don’t talk to him, you hear me?” Brenner rages. “You talk to me,  _ me,  _ dammit!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” Rossi’s voice is calm and level, but Hotch knows him too well. Hotch can detect the undercurrent of anxiety. 

Hotch knows how Rossi feels about the kid, knows how much he looks after the younger agent. And Hotch knows that Rossi knows about  _ them. _ Hell, the whole team knows now, but Rossi … Rossi has known since the beginning. 

There’s another thud, another yelp, and this time a shout from Rossi.

“Leave him be! Shit -- Jeremy, I did what you asked. See? No weapon. Just you and me.” There’s a pause, and Hotch knows Rossi is assessing Reid. “Listen, why don’t you let the kid go, hmm? Just you and me, we can talk. I know what this is about, Jeremy. I know --”

“You know  _ nothing!” _ Brenner roars. He takes a step forward, bringing himself and Reid into the window. 

Hotch’s stomach flips.

Reid is leaning limply against Brenner, held there by a strong arm nearly crushing his neck. There’s blood liberally coating the side of his face. He’s white as a sheet otherwise. Hotch has to blink, clearing visions of that horrible cabin in Georgia out of his mind. He can’t think about that, can’t think about how that time they very nearly didn’t get Spencer back. 

Can’t think about Spencer seizing on that dirty floor, cold, alone, and dying.

He  _ can’t. _

“You know  _ nothing _ about me.” Brenner’s voice has dropped dangerously low. “Nothing about why I’ve done what I’ve done, nothing about my past, nothing about my family. I know how you  _ profilers _ work.” He spits the word, taking another step forward.

Reid stumbles forward with him, gagging as he is yanked back against Brenner’s chest. 

Hotch feels cold fingers wrap around his heart and  _ squeeze. _ He knows that tone in Brenner’s voice. The man is devolving further. He has his own agenda, and he isn’t going to be talked down.

“Okay, Jeremy. Why -- why don’t you tell me about it then. Tell me why.” By the way Rossi rushes to appease Brenner, he knows this situation just got way more volatile too.

Brenner takes another step forward, and all of a sudden Hotch has what he needs.

He spins, ducking into the back of his SUV. He spins the combination lock and pulls out his sniper rifle as swiftly as he can.

The local sheriff blanches.

“Now, hold on there, Agent. That man --”

“That  _ man _ has two of my agents in there,” Hotch spits. He slams a round into the chamber. “I’m not letting either of them get hurt.” He steps up close to the sheriff. “If you have a problem with how I’m handling this, take it up with the director. I am  _ not _ losing either of my agents today. Morgan!”

Hotch gives Morgan command of the remaining team and LEOs. They’ve worked this scenario before, taking out the UNSUB with the rifle, handling the aftermath as smoothly as possible. He wants the LEOs out of the way as much as possible. They don’t need them mucking up what  _ is _ a good shoot. 

There’s no way around it now, Hotch knows. He and Rossi, they’ve seen this before, more times than the backwater sheriff or any of the younger agents on his team. They know what happens when an UNSUB starts talking like that, starts taking control of the situation. Brenner intends to kill Reid, then Rossi, and then whoever else he can before they take him down.

Hotch is not letting the man take his lover away from him. 

His knees almost buckle at the thought, but he stiffens his resolve and brings the rifle up. He wonders for a moment what the rest of his team would think of him if they could see past the hard shell he wears as armor. What they would think if they could see how terrified he is right now, how much his hands long to shake, how much his pulse is racing. He projects a hard-ass, no nonsense, emotionless leader because he  _ has to.  _ He can’t let them doubt him, he can’t let the LEOs think they can walk all over his team, he can’t ever --  _ ever _ \-- let the UNSUBs see how much he cares. 

But, God, he cares.

He cares so much for Spencer that it  _ hurts, _ and that’s on a good day. Right now? Right now he’s on fire. He’s burning from the inside out, acid-anger running through his veins, begging to be unleashed on this scum who dares to touch his beloved. Right now, he’s frigid. He’s frozen in place and time, his emotions dripping icicles of fear, locked solid lest they break the dam of his hard shell. Right now? 

Right now, he needs to take the shot.

He can hear Rossi talking, faintly. He can hear Spencer breathing, ragged and gasping. He can hear Brenner shouting.

He can see Rossi’s hands, barely. He can see Spencer swaying, sick and pained. He can see Brenner’s gun move from Spencer’s head to point at Rossi.

_ Front sight. Trigger press. Follow through. _

Brenner is on the floor. Hotch’s ears are ringing. Spencer is falling, staggering forward, horror and blood on his face. Rossi is jerking upright, launching himself at Spencer, catching the kid. Rossi looks up through the shattered window, stares Hotch directly in the eye.

“He’ll be fine, Aaron.”

* * *

Hotch doesn’t care what Rossi said. He won’t believe that Spencer is alright until he has the younger agent in his arms. He leaves Morgan to deal with the LEOs and storms forward under the pretense of needing to check his target.

He doesn't need to check his target. He knows where his bullet went. He knows Brenner is dead.

Hotch reaches Spencer before the paramedics have barely cleared the ambulance. 

“Aaron,” Spencer breathes.

Hotch’s facade breaks. He wraps his arms around Spencer, pulls the young man away from Rossi, tucks him close into his chest. He lets himself  _ be _ for just a few minutes.

“Spencer,” he whispers. “Oh, God, Spencer.” He holds Spencer there for a moment, just breathing in his scent, feeling his warmth, feeling the thudding of Spencer’s heartbeat against his chest. 

Then he registers the sticky liquid on the side of Spencer’s face, seeping into his own skin.

_ He’s hurt. _

“Oh, God.  _ Spencer.” _ Hotch disentangles himself from Spencer, pushing the younger man back and towards a chair. “He hurt you. That bastard hurt you.”

“I-I’m okay.” His words are wobbly, but not slurred. “It looks worse … head wounds bleed more. I just … need a minute. Please.” He curls his hands into Hotch’s jacket, refusing to be deposited in the chair. “Hold me? Just for a minute?”

It’s unusual for them to even touch on a case, in public. They just … don’t. On the plane, in the bullpen, among their own team sometimes they hold hands or share a fond look. In front of snobby LEOs, never.

This? This is different. This time, Spencer almost  _ died. _ This time, Hotch  _ killed _ for Spencer.

This time, Hotch pulls Spencer into his arms and lets his guard down.

This time, Hotch is going to hold Spencer for as long as he needs.

Nothing,  _ no one,  _ messes with his lover.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? I hope you liked it! I had fun with this, and it's one of the shortest things I've ever written. I have a problem with longevity.
> 
> On a completely different note, if anybody knows what happens next in _Break My Bones_ please let me know because I _don't know_ and am taking suggestions. :-)
> 
> Spare a comment? If you can? I love them and I love you. Have a great evening (or whatever time it is for you when you read this)


End file.
